Warning: A lot of violence in this chapter
Disclaimer: It's JK Rowling's world with my own twist
1997 – March 22
Darkness.
It was just like her last dream. Panic flooded through her system and her heart began pounding. This time, she could feel the ground, cold and hard beneath her, and she knew exactly where she was; the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.
Hermione wrapped her arms around herself in attempt to cease the constant shivering. She couldn't tell if it was from the cold, from fear, or from the cruciatus curse she had been hit with earlier. She inhaled deeply, letting her chest expand and fill with air, even if it was dank and musty from the dungeons.
Her life was coming to an end; probably one filled with the most agonizing pain she had ever experienced. It was coming and she was helpless. It was coming and she was alone, in the dark, waiting. Waiting for the moment she knew was coming when she would beg for death.
Hermione shuddered at the thought.
She was unimaginably frustrated and angry with herself. How could she let this happen? Was her mind so slow that she couldn't convince herself to simply run? Did it really matter if Professor Snape was trustworthy? It would have been better to leave and face the consequences of trusting him later than what they were facing now. Now, Snape was dead, and they were captured with very little hope left.
She was supposed to be the smart one! She was supposed to be the one fixing things, not making them so much worse! Maybe this was why Hermione, Harry, and Ron had lasted so long. She was logical, but she didn't act on a whim, she needed to have all the information before proceeding. Harry and Ron were the ones who got up and did what needed to be done, even if it seemed utterly insane. As much as it had frustrated her in the past, today, that trait could have saved lives.
Her mind drifted to Draco and her heart ached. Was he alright? What was happening to him? She didn't want to think about what he could be going through at that very moment. She didn't want to have the image of him being tortured constantly flashing in her mind.
He could be fine. He could be right there in the dungeon and she wouldn't know. It wasn't as if she could even see her hand in front of her face.
Sitting on the hard ground of the dungeons, she dared not move. Hermione didn't know what else was there with her or what was around her. Images haunted her mind of deadly poison spikes surrounding her or a vicious monster, sleeping, that simply a touch of her hand would wake it. She had much too large an imagination to be left in the dark like this. It was going to drive her insane! Though, that may be the point. The thought chilled her. Maybe it was psychological torture before the physical torture began.
How long had she been sitting there? Long enough for her legs to begin to cramp, but the pitch black made it difficult to tell.
"Hermione?" It was Draco's voice. Her heart leaped.
"Draco?" she answered, relief washing over her. At least he was alive and they were together. "Where are you?"
"Move towards my voice," he told her.
"Is it safe to move?" she asked. "Is there anything else down here?"
"I think it's just us. I don't know what else you're worried about but prisoners tend not to last very long," he said solemnly.
Still wary of her surroundings, she slowly inched her way along the floor to her right, until finally, she felt Draco with her fingertips. His hand curled around hers and brought her closer, wrapping his arms around her. Somehow, even that action made her feel safer.
"What's going to happen to us?" she asked in a shaky and terrified voice.
"I'm so sorry," he said.
"I told you earlier, this is not your fault," Hermione insisted. "If anything, it's mine now," she whispered.
"Don't even talk like that Hermione. You did fine. You thought of the things I should have. Yes, we may have needed to be faster to prevent this from happening, but that is in no way on you. The Dark Lord has his ways of getting what he wants. Who knows, maybe that was part of his plan. Maybe he knew you were too smart to get caught so he had to slow down our instincts. But this whole situation was my fault to begin with. If it wasn't for me, you would never be in this mess."
"Please stop telling yourself that. It is in no way your fault. None of this was your own choice. You were forced to become a Death Eater, you were born into this deranged social group, you couldn't control any of this. You did your best to protect me and appreciate that, I really do. Now we are in this mess together and we can't change the past."
"How are you still talking like that? We're not going to make it out of here. These people are insane. They have only kept us alive because they couldn't have their fun with us at the cabin," he said in a hopeless voice.
"We still have now. We still have these final moments," she whispered.
She didn't want to die and she was completely terrified of the thought that they wouldn't make it out of there. But it was fairly inevitable that they wouldn't.
The two sat in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the sounds of the other's breathing. Suddenly, Hermione felt Draco take a deep breath beside her.
"I need to tell you something," he said. "You asked when I began questioning my prejudices. I think it started when you punched me in the face in third year." Hermione smiled at the memory. "I realized that you weren't some incapable mudblood, but a smart, strong, independent witch who was capable of standing up for yourself. I started to realise that you didn't fit anything that the word stood for, other than your blood status." He took another deep breath, like it was difficult for him to say these things, but needed to get them out before he was killed. "I began to admire a great deal of things about you and that terrified me. I thought that I had to reteach myself to hate you, that if I said enough cruel things to you and your friends that it would make me hate you again. I was afraid that if anyone found out, I would be shunned, or even worse if my father found out. I was taught that feeling anything but hate for someone like you was one of the worst things I could do."
Hermione had no idea that this had been going on for so long. "Draco, I- "
He cut her off. "No, please, let me finish. I need you to hear this," he continued. "The Yule ball in fourth year, when you went with Viktor Krum," he said the name with such distaste, Hermione was a bit taken aback. "Now, looking back, I think that was when I started to fall in love with you."
Hermione gasped quietly. Love? He had started to fall in love with her in fourth year? Oh, how she wished she could see his face.
"That was even more frightening. I couldn't control my emotions no matter how hard I tried. Soon, I couldn't even hear the word mudblood without getting a sickening feeling in my chest. In the summer before sixth year I was marked and I was so scared that I would give away my feelings and you would be in danger. I tried so hard to keep it from everyone, but us Slytherins, we are a perceptive bunch. The people I hung out with started to notice things and in the end, someone told their Death Eater father about it, who informed the Dark Lord. You know the rest. I've wanted to tell you for a while but I just couldn't. I was afraid it would ruin everything. I needed you to know before we die." He sighed. "I love you, Hermione."
She didn't know what to say. He had loved her for two years? He had tried so hard not to put her in danger. A feeling welled inside her, a feeling that she had only ever had flashes of before that was now pulling on her chest full force. Impossible as it may have seemed to her even a few weeks prior, Hermione was in love with Draco Malfoy.
With one hand, she felt for his face, fingers gently touching for where his lips may lie. Finding them, she leaned forwards and kissed him.
There was something about the dark, the pitch black that they were surrounded by, that enhanced every other sense in that moment. Hermione could feel his breath on her face, his lips against hers, smell the sent of his sweaty, smoke covered skin, the sweet taste of him in her mouth. She felt the strength in his arms as he held her tighter against him, deepening the kiss until they couldn't be much closer. Hermione ran her fingers up the back of his neck and through his already dishevelled hair.
This was love; this feeling of unimaginable intensity, this longing to never again be separated from his embrace. She memorized this moment. Every touch, every sensation, every emotion, clinging to it as if it were her last breath.
The door smashed open and light streamed into the dungeon, making the two instantly break the kiss; break that final, beautiful moment. Hermione squinted, the light hurting her eyes after being in the dark for so long. Draco still held her tightly, but this time more for protection than anything else and Hermione clung to him.
A man she had never seen before moved slowly towards them.
"Get up," he demanded gruffly. They both stayed where they were, huddled together on the floor. "I said, get up!" he yelled.
Hermione looked to Draco, who nodded slightly, and the two stood up shakily. Draco made sure to give her hand a squeeze of assurance and kept her close.
"Now, just the girl, come," the man growled.
"No," Draco growled back, just as menacingly.
"Do not say 'no' to me boy. She'll come, it's just a matter of if she gets killed now or later. Let her go and it's later."
Hermione was too afraid to move. She didn't know what to do. She did not want to go anywhere with this man, but she also didn't want to be killed right then, not in front of Draco. Apparently they took too long to respond because the man raised his wand and held it against Hermione's temple.
She gasped in fear, gripping Draco's arm as though it were a lifeline. Hermione looked up at him. He looked lost, conflicted. He didn't know what to do, how they could possibly get out of this, either. Did she really have any other choice than to do as she was told?
Hermione closed her eyes. "It's alright Draco," she said, almost inaudibly.
With one last squeeze, Draco let her go, and let her be led from the dungeon to the worst reality yet.
"Draco, I love you too," were her last words before the door was shut behind her.
Draco was sent back into darkness, alone with his thoughts.
Had he made the right choice by letting Hermione be taken? Should he have put up more of a fight? They had taken his wand so he had no weapon, nothing to fight with. He didn't stand a chance.
He sunk to the floor and buried his head in his hands. He guessed they still had a small bit of hope and he couldn't let her be killed right there, not when there was still a very, very slim chance that she could make it out of there alive.
He desperately hoped his message got delivered. It was the only chance they had left to live through this but he wasn't very confident in its outcome. Draco knew that should things go bad, the Death Eaters would want to do more than simply to kill them and they would take them back to Malfoy manor to have their fun. He was right. So maybe she could escape. Maybe. But the more he thought about it, the more he doubted that fact.
He had finally told Hermione. He couldn't die without telling her, he couldn't let her die without hearing. It had taken a lot to get the words out, he hated being so vulnerable. But in the end, it was all he could have ever hoped it would be, and so much more. He had told her that he loved her, that he had loved her for two years. He had poured out everything he had been keeping trapped inside for so long. It felt good to let it go, to finally tell her everything. Nothing could prepare him for her kiss, blind but passionate. He loved her. He loved the feeling of her in his arms, the feeling of her lips against his, the feeling of her fingers in his hair. For a possibly last moment with her, it was pretty good.
Then she was taken, taken to who knows what horrors. But her last words hung in the air, continually being restated in his mind.
She loved him.
She loved him and it gave him a new found motivation. He had to find a way to save her, had to think of a plan, a way to get out of the dungeons. If only someone would come down to get him. Surly they would want him to watch as they killed her. That would be his chance. If he could make enough of a distraction, maybe she could get away. There was no hope for him either way, but at least maybe he could help Hermione escape.
Hermione's scream echoed through the dungeon from above and pierced him like a knife through his heart. He knew they would torture her, he knew they would want him to hear her agonized cries and be completely helpless to do anything. That he was. He should have been prepared, but nothing could prepare him for how much it hurt to listen to her suffer like that.
Another scream from above and Draco knew he couldn't just sit around, he had to do something! He knew it was impossible, that no matter how hard he smashed his body against that door, it wouldn't budge, but he had to try, he had to try something! Even if it was loud enough for her to hear that he was trying, to give her that small bit of hope. Draco stood up and closed his eyes, remembering where the door lay. Finally finding it, he banged his fist against it.
Hermione's cries grew louder as the torture continued. Cruciatus he knew, and he hoped they wouldn't do anything else. He couldn't stand to think of the other vile things they could do. He had seen it, what they did to female muggle-borns, the hell they put them through. It was much more than the Cruciatus.
He had felt the pain of that curse himself, and though it was the worst pain he had ever felt before, he had recovered without lasting effects. The other things they did, if the victim had lived, they may have never fully recovered. Granted, if the curse was held over the victim long enough, their mind started to go.
No. He couldn't think about that. He had to give her any hope that he could. Maybe he could get to her in time. Draco smashed his body against the door, wincing at the pain it caused him, then scolding himself. This was nothing compared to what Hermione was facing.
Her screams got even louder and more desperate from above. He heard her plead and beg, and knew they must be amplifying her words so that he could hear them more clearly. Draco growled and threw himself against the door again.
It seemed to go on for hours. She would scream in agony, then they would stop to give her a rest before initiating the curse again, each time causing a new cycle of anger, pain, and desperation to arise within him.
Suddenly, the screaming stopped, and didn't restart. No! No! Could they have killed her? It would have been an accident because they would have wanted him to watch as they did it. They couldn't have! No, he wouldn't believe it.
"Hermione!" he shouted. "Hermione!" He smashed himself against the door again. "Hermione!" he shrieked again. Still, there was no sound.
Suddenly, the door burst open and Draco was sent flying back across the ground. Before could even react, he felt sudden calmness come over him. He recognized the feeling immediately. He was being controlled with the imperious curse. This would have been horrifying to him if the spell hadn't taken away any sense of responsibility.
Who was controlling him? He noticed the gleeful expression on his aunt's face as she led him up the stairs and knew that whatever he was going to be forced to do would absolutely destroy him when the curse was lifted. But right then, everything was alright.
Draco was led to a room where an eager looking group of Death Eaters waited. Things seemed blurry, like it was all some sort of dream. He couldn't feel pain, or the panic he was feeling just a moment ago. It was as if he was floating on a cloud just watching as he moved involuntarily.
He noticed Rowle looking very excited, Dolohov, his father watching unemotionally. The Dark Lord himself was among his followers. This should have seemed strange, should have sent warning bells off in his head, but now, there was nothing but calm.
The Dark Lord nodded at Bellatrix who cackled with eager anticipation.
"Torture her," his aunt commanded him, with a sickening grin on her face.
His gaze turned to the unconscious body, laying on the ground at his feet.
It was Hermione.
Her cheeks were lined with evidence of tears and her body was covered in sweat and blood. Draco felt a wand being pressed into his hand and knew he was expected to use the cruciatus curse on her. Something stirred inside of him; something strong, powerful. Draco knew this wasn't right. He had fight this! He couldn't let himself torture Hermione! No! He couldn't! He wouldn't!
"Oops! Forgot she fell unconscious. Rennervate," Bellatrix said, pulling Hermione out of her sleep.
Draco watched as she went from first opening her eyes, to confusion, to horror. He needed to be more upset by what was happening! He still felt as though he were watching from far away, as if the situation was normal, or even pleasant. Draco needed to snap out of it!
"Draco!" his aunt barked. "Do it! Torture her! Cruciatus! Now!" she ordered again, getting impatient.
"Draco, please. Fight it," Hermione begged him, voice hoarse from screaming. Laughter erupted around him, but the words gave Draco new motivation.
He couldn't do this! Somehow, he had no control over his own body and to his horror, he found himself raising his wand toward Hermione. He tried to lower it, tried to at least affect the direction in which the curse would go, but nothing was working.
"Crucio." Draco heard the word come out of his mouth, mechanical, unemotional. And Hermione was thrashing on the floor, screaming, by the end of his own hand, his magic, his wand. Why couldn't he stop this? Why couldn't he fight it? Potter did it, he remembered. Potter was able to fight the curse, resist its pull, break its hold. Why couldn't he? He was hurting Hermione! Why couldn't he stop this? Finally, his controlled self lifted the curse.
Laughs and evil cackles filled the room around him. The Death Eaters were enjoying this little show.
"Do it again!" Bellatrix yelled.
No! "Crucio" And again, Hermione's pained howl sliced through him. He fought, fought hard and this time was able to gain back some tiny bit of control and pull the curse off sooner.
"Alright, alright, enough fun. Kill her," he was ordered.
No. He wouldn't do it. He had to stop himself.
Hermione looked up at him with teary eyes.
"Draco," she whispered looking him straight in the eye. "I believe in you."
That gave him the will to push through the rest of the way, bursting through the haze of the curse, and he fell to his knees, exhausted.
"Crucio!"
Draco couldn't tell who had cast the curse, but it hit him with a vengeance, setting his bones on fire. His own screams filled his ears as he writhed on the ground, agony surrounding him. He couldn't breath, every breath felt like a knife being thrust down his throat. Every touch of his flesh upon the floor was as if being pressed to red hot iron. Even through the pain, he knew he had to get to Hermione. At least they would be together.
As soon as the curse was lifted, Draco ignored the aftershocks as much as possible and pulled himself along the floor to where Hermione lay. Muscles still twitching, he pulled her up against himself, wrapping his arms around her and holding her as tightly as he could. Her breathing was weak and she was barely conscious.
"Hermione," he whispered her name. "I'm sorry." He looked up and glared at his father who must have recently escaped prison. Azkaban had not been good for him as he looked lost and disheveled. Draco had once admired the man, now, he was one of the most hated Death Eaters in the room. Yes, he had probably been broken in prison, but that didn't mean he could stand there and watch his son torture a girl under imperious, then be tortured himself when he fought the curse off. He was a coward, an evil coward.
"That's cute," Rowle sneered.
"It seems the fun is over," the Dark Lord stated, obviously disgusted by the show of affection. He stepped forward and stared directly at Draco. "So much potential. What a disappointing waste." He turned to his followers. "Who would like the honour to end the traitor and his little mudblood lover's lives?"
Draco couldn't understand why he was even there. Surely killing Draco wasn't the most important thing on the evil man's schedule. Why was he taking the time? Was it to make certain it got done?
"I would, my lord." Bellatrix answered enthusiastically.
"Your own nephew, Bella?" the Dark Lord questioned. He seemed impressed by the show of loyalty.
"He stopped being my nephew the moment he chose a mudblood over a powerful wizard like you my lord," she replied.
Draco glared at his father, who was still staring stone faced at the two teenagers on the ground. Was he really that far gone? Was he really going to stand there and let his only son be killed?
Draco kissed Hermione's cheek, not completely sure whether or not she was still conscious. "We'll be together," he whispered. "To the very end."
Bellatrix raised her wand.
"Draco, you disappointed me very much. It really is a pity. Could have made a great team." She shrugged as if tossing aside such ideal thoughts. "Avad- "
Before she could finish the incantation, there was a pop of someone apparating and Bellatrix's wand was soaring across the room.
Author's Note:
Another chapter! Don't worry, it's not the end (even though that is what the chapter was called). There are still a few more.
This is where my story diverges more from the books. I've started to change a few minor things in this chapter that fit with my plot such as the time of the Azkaban breakout. I hope it's alright.
Sorry about the cliffy but it just seemed like the right place to end! Wow, that was intense. It's summer now, so I should have more time to write and get the next chapter up for you on time. Yay!
Thanks to Sachiko Heiwajima, bennettfan84 and NikeCeleste13 for your reviews!
I admit the last chapter was a bit frustrating but hopefully I cleared it up somewhat here. Let me know! Tell me what you thought of the chapter and what is going to happen next! I'm excited to hear what you think.
Thanks to everyone who read and have a great week!